


Spare Parts come with the Territory

by TheDaysOfGold



Category: Psycho-Pass
Genre: Books, Hanging Out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-06
Updated: 2020-12-06
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:29:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27907492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDaysOfGold/pseuds/TheDaysOfGold
Summary: Makishima confides in few people. In his regard, there are few intelligent enough to confide in, but there's one comrade that has stood by him through thick and thin. Through the big moments and the little ones. This is one of the little ones. Just talking about books, and chapters of the past, with an old friend.
Kudos: 4





	Spare Parts come with the Territory

“I picked up a copy of Phillip K. Dick, the one you mentioned to me.”

“Oh?” Makishima answers with more than a slight twinge of delight. “How far are you through it?”

“Finished it the other night. _Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?_ An odd title, really. I finished it while waiting for another shipment of those helmet parts. The warehouse manager kept me waiting for hours, but it was nice, sitting in the car, getting lost in an oddly reminiscent town.”

“You appreciated the author’s worldbuilding?”

“It’s as you said, the author recognised what the world was at the time, and the path it was going to take. It’s less outlandish than anything Gibson wrote, that’s for sure, but I think that’s what drew me in. The sense of realism. Really, if you hadn’t told me otherwise, I’d be convinced that this was a narrative set in this strange town we live in.”

“Yes, this abnormal town,” Makishima answers, and his mind seems to drift away for a while. Choe Gu-sung sees this fairly often in his companion, the way his mind wanders in a myriad of thoughts, like he’s travelling down a tunnel, curious to see what lies at the end. Or, more accurately, like he’s in a swamp and trying to dive down to the bottom, just to see what’s down there, just to see where the dark impulses and forbidden thoughts take him. But he always surfaces again. Gu-sung knows this, because though Makishima’s mind wanders, his eyes always remain razor sharp. That one trait has always made him wonder about Makishima’s past, about all the stories he’s told about youth and previous employment. And it’s funny really, if the MWPSB had any idea of what Makishima used to do, then they’d declare him the most sane of them all and give up the man hunt entirely.

But, alas, it is a strange town they live in.

“What did you think of the details of the fictional world?” He continues, when it’s clear that he’s back from the bottom of the swamp. “Were there any details of the worldbuilding that stood out to you, as compared to the place we live in?”

Gu-sung contemplates this for a moment, because he knows how Makishima hates hollow answers. Unlike so many mindless goons that roam the planet, he thinks deeply and cares passionately in ways that so few ever know.

“It’s a lengthy question,” he answers at last, reaching into his bag to retrieve the tattered old paperback.

“Ah, you brought it with you.” Makishima interrupts, the sight of the book capturing his attention as much as the conversation. He steps forward, away from the hotel window overlooking the midnight city, and takes the offered book, running his fingers over every angle. “Sorry, I cut in. Please continue.”

“It’s alright,” Gu-sung shrugs. “Hadn’t really come up with an answer until now. I guess I see some similarities, with the whole ‘getting hunted by the authorities’ sort of thing, but the obvious parallel is that the android does the hunting, but doesn’t know about it. Amusing really, a system that sends a type of people after their own kind, preserving the rest. Reminds me of that old Bible story,”

“Which one?” Makishima asks, keeping perfect pace with his companion’s monologue.

“Don’t really remember the name, but I remember the moral of the story,” comes the reply, and it’s a little empty, as if this story was meant to fill an emotion hole that it somehow couldn’t quite satisfy. “There’s a story where God orders devils and demons to do his bidding, to test the faith of humanity and hunt down those who worship false gods, while the angels rest and watch over the events. But really, testing the faith and punishing evil, that really ought to be the angel’s job, right? It’s their rules that are being enforced.”

“Makes you wonder about the Sibyl System, this god from on high, sending the devils out to catch its criminals. If a god truly were omnipotent, then it does beg the question of why there are criminals in the first place.”

“But because there are criminals, the god is not almighty.”

Makishima turns to the windows again, a clear smile on his face. “You’ve got a brilliant mind Cheo Gu-sung, never let me say otherwise. I think you might have just defined our dear god of this world perfectly; the almighty one that is only almighty in the minds of those it governs. But let me say this; a king does not need to tell his people that he is king.”

“Seems our king does a lot of telling,” comes the reply, and its hoarse and tired, as if he’s been saying this ever since his home country was destroyed in the war. “Got to ask you something though,” he says again, after a period of silence.

Makishima turns to him expectantly, his arms lightly crossed and his head tipped to one side. It’s an endearing gesture, really, and speaks of nothing that lurks within that incredible mind his companion has.

“Why do you wear white all the time?” Gu-sung asks, leaning back in the chair. “It’s really only just occurred to me, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in anything else. Got a limited wardrobe?”

Makishima chuckles at the inference. “No, not at all. I’m just following what the Sybil System recommends for everyone. Wearing bright and cheerful colours promotes a clear hue, does it not?”

“That’s what they keep saying,”

“It’s also why they make the patients at the rehabilitation centre wear pale green; it’s meant to soothe mind. Perhaps there’s some truth to it, or perhaps the Sibyl System just hosts stocks in washing machine businesses. Truly, it is difficult to keep stains out of pale clothes.”

Now it’s Gu-sung’s turn to chuckle. “I smell a rouse,”

Makishima turns back to the window, now hosting a question of his own. “Your eyes. I’ve never inquired because I can’t imagine that it was a pleasant experience, but did you lose them of your own volition?”

“No one gives up working eyes,”

“I see.” Makishima answers neutrally, wondering if his companion will continue, or if that’s the end of the backstory.

“It was in my home country,” Gu-sung answers after a while, indicating that it was not the backstory’s end. “The war left me an orphan, a crippled one at that. I fled as a refugee over the ocean, and landed in Japan at one of the poorer islands. I don’t remember which one. But, at the time, the Sibyl System didn’t reach there, so that’s where all the refugees ended up. Not like these days, where they're integrated as citizens. Back then, we were like trash.”

“How did you survive?”

“Same way I survived during the war,” he answers easily, as if this chapter of his life contained no pain. But Makishima knows better. He knows that his companion is comfortable with this chapter not because of the lack of trauma, but the abundance of distance between him and it, both physically and mentally. It truly was a testament to him. While Makishima’s Psycho Pass was easy to manipulate, for reasons he did now know, Gu-sung had always kept his below threshold value, despite his crimes. Perhaps it was his complete faith in the fact that what he did was right, and that there wasn’t a single scrap of remorse about it. Or perhaps he’d just seen far worse than their proverbial god could imagine with its circuits and insanity.

“As soon as I landed on Japanese soil, I made for the closest city, the biggest one I could find.” Gu-sung continues, like a bedtime story. “Found an internet café, and hacked into the biggest bank on the net. Filled my pockets, covered my tracks, and tipped the poor guy working at the cafe with more money than he’d seen in his lifetime.”

“And how did you evade street scanners at the time?” Makishima asks, wondering if his hypothesis is correct.

In his companion’s answer, he finds that he is. “I only took what I felt I was owed. I’d come from a war-torn country, a war started by the international banks fighting with one another and the uprising opposing Japan’s closure. I didn’t feel like it was a crime. For me, it was just compensation.”

“And your eyes?”

“They were getting worse. An explosion in my home country damaged the neurons in my brain, and my eyesight was degrading rapidly. This was sped up by the malnutrition on the sea voyage, and the fact that I was rich, but homeless.” He pauses for a while, as if the next part of the story carries some emotional weight. “It was going to be a problem. If I couldn’t see, then I couldn’t use technology. Even with all our innovations, technology is made for those who are visually sound.”

“What did you do?”

“Fortunately, there was an illegal prosthetics company working in the underground. They found out about me,” he pauses for another chuckle. “I think I might have robbed one of their clients. Either way, they had an experimental procedure and offered it to me in return for five years’ service.”

“And you clearly accepted. Did you serve out your term?”

“To the last day.” He answers proudly. “Those men gave me working eyes. They're saints, Shogo, never let it be said otherwise. You know, most people think that criminals are liars. That’s fairly true, but we’re honest folk too. I enjoyed my time with them. I made them filthy rich, gave them connections they could only dream about, and now they run one of the biggest hospital chains in the country. Their buildings stand on the city skyline now. Most of their customers don’t even know they're shopping at an illegal front, and the Sibyl System certainly hasn’t caught onto my paper trail.”

“You're a genius. I’ll say that until the day I die.”

“Yeah, yeah. I just wanted to pay my dues. That’s all it was.” He leans back, arching his back over the lounge chair until he’s upside down and his hair falls away from his forehead. It feels good, the stretch in his neck. “You know, we really are honest folk. Not cruel or twisted or impolite. The criminals we work with might be, but that’s because they're criminals. Not decent folk.”

“I fear that you may only speak for yourself,” Makishima answered melancholically, and his eyes cast down, to the lower levels of the city, where the bowels and pits are dark and deep. “I fear what I might become without you, if ever we were parted.”

And for his part, Cheo Gu-sung takes this comment seriously. He rightens himself and looks to his companion, dressed in white, cast in the soft glow of the neon city. “Yeah, I guess I'm afraid too. I just hope we never find out.”

And though the closing statement calls for some sort of answer, Makishima has nothing. He just keeps his eyes on the city, his mind in the swamp, and his concern for the future that is hurtling towards them at a breakneck speed.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello all,
> 
> There really isn't enough Makishima content around, so I thought this might be a little fun. 
> 
> Thanks,


End file.
